Personal transformation is an alteration. An adjustment to a way of thinking that was deeply ingrained all this while, finally shaken up one one explicit thing, or a combination of factors that lead to that one point in time. Such that that deeply held notion comes lose, and you are able to examine it more closely, and see it better for what it really was all this while. And when you s.e.e it...finally, really, see it..you cannot rest with it anymore. The desire to change starts to rage within you, and c.h.a.n.g.e is what churns out of it. And suddenly, you are no longer what you used to be. You are better. You are purer. You are more conscious. You are more questioning. You are more discriminating, in the best possible way. Always pulling yourself up short, at that exact crucial point, when that same mistake could be made again.
There is a lot of struggle at first....when you begin to practice that change. Even though the discerning quality in you has been sharpened, it does not follow suit that your actions will follow the prompt of your Intelligence. No, that takes several more rounds of painstaking effort at application, and the resultant failures thereof. But each effort is a success. Each thought to do better, whether followed by action or not, is a triumph. And soon, you will weary so much of not getting it right, that one day, you just will. Exactly in line with your thought and your better, keener sense. And that is when the change becomes you. There is no difference anymore, to tell it apart, because it is you, and you are it.
Such that it will be something that gets noticed in you, by those who relate to you well. They will say.... you've changed. It might sound like an accusation sometimes, or it may be a very quiet remark of deep resound. And sometimes, you know of it even before they do. Because somewhere off late, the mind has loosened its hold on you, and there is more peace and less heaving, in reaction to everything in your life. There is a little bit more stillness, and a lot more quiet. The breathing remains even...perhaps even deliberate and slow and very very luxurious. It is an ecstasy of the highest possible state. There are very few feelings that can top having that steady hold on your breath...
Happiness is a friend that calls at will and surprises you every once in a while. But it is not the feeling or the sensation in my heart that satisfies me. What I thrive on, more than anything else, is this insane quiet, just at that point when everything is going crazily berserk around me. The way I feel even more like a stone, rooted to a spot, no matter which way the wind blows. And it is blowing, let me assure you, at close to 65 miles an hour, if the weather in Chicago today can be believed. :)
What brought this on? Just this very potent and very simple message I read today. Let me share it with you.
Never Complain, Never Explain.
~ By Greg Hickman
"Never complain; never explain. Don't justify the error; fix it." ~ Henry Ford II
Quite a number of years ago, I stumbled across a phrase in a magazine that really piqued my interest. The phrase simply said "never complain, never explain.” From the moment I read it, those four words really hit home with me. To my way of thinking, they summed up the philosophy of all winners. A winner should never waste his or her valuable time complaining or making excuses.
I decided to tape a piece of paper containing this phrase to a wall in my office along with an accompanying challenge. As soon as I went an entire day without voicing a complaint or offering up an excuse, I could take the message down.
I have always enjoyed a good challenge and I figured this phrase could provide a tough test of my will for a day or so. The first day or two quickly passed without me accomplishing my goal. "All I need to do is toughen up a little and I'll get the job done. No problem," I confidently reassured myself. A month later, the piece of paper was still taped to my wall.
I couldn't believe it, I still had not gone just one day without making a complaint or offering up some sort of excuse. In fact, I had complained about something and made an excuse about something else at least one time every single day for a month. Not one or the other - but both!
I was disappointed that I had failed to accomplish what had originally seemed like such an easy goal. But more than that, I was embarrassed. Now I was really motivated to answer the challenge and get this message off my wall once and for all. Make no mistake about it, I would get the job done this time for sure!
Five years later that torn, tattered, yellowed piece of paper with the simple little message was still hanging defiantly on my office wall. How could this have happened to me? I really gave it a good shot, but one way or another, I would always find a way to slip up at some point during each and every day and start complaining or explaining about something or another. One thing I learned from this challenge was we all complain a lot more than we think we do and we make excuses left and right.
I know what you're probably thinking right about now. You think it will be easy, don't you? Ha! I thought so too. I now realize that the fulfillment of that simple little pledge will be a lifelong pursuit of mine.
Even if you and I fail to live a single day devoid of any personal complaining or explaining, we can still significantly cut down on the amount of complaints and excuses we make and that is indeed a very good start, isn't it? When you take on this challenge, you will begin eliminating a lot of negative feelings and destructive actions from your life and consequently will become a much better person to be around.
There is no better time for you to get to work on your very own "never complain, never explain" challenge than right now. All you have to do is stop complaining and quit explaining and get started today.
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So, I have done the obvious. I have printed this out in the largest font that will fit on an A4 in landscape, and am taping it to a kitchen cabinet, which is where I do most of my complaining anyways. :)
I must have heard this...never complain...many many times, through many many inspired sources. But did I k.n.o.w it? No, I did not. For knowing something, means knowing it intimately. And intimate means 'in'. 'Inside'. And I don't know it in that way at all. But I hope that is about to change. The day I take that paper down, I will tell you about it!
These days I have this new daily online fascination. To play SET. Have you played SET before? It is this cool critical thinking game, where you make patterns in sets of 3. There are, of course, different levels and you never quite know which one you are going to get on a particular day. And you have access to only one puzzle a day, unless you want to google like crazy and find out the New York Times SET puzzle or dig up a few more. (Would you please pass the links, if you find them, please?). This way my energy doesn't have a burnout, quite as fast, 'cos I am famous for those as a Sagittarian, and the fascination goes on longer. And pit yourself against a friend, and these distinct Monica-like tendencies ('Friends' fame!) to compete and win crop up, to keep it interesting! Which has never quite happened, by the way, at which point, I can conveniently assume a zen-like attitude and say...I am in it, not to win it, but for the fun in it! :D
Yeah its fun! And its competitive too, even if you just try to beat your time score from the previous day. And it gives my brain power a bit of a zany boost, together with the caffiene every morning. Try it! :)
CROCUS is here again in 2010 at Saffron Tree. And it seems only a short while ago that we celebrated it in 2009! This year we are covering all the various aspects of culture, hopping nimbly from Arts & Crafts to Mythology to Folktales to Lifestyles to Food to Traditions, and so much more!! So don't miss it. Be there this week from October 23 to 30th and catch all the multicultural picks, and be sure to write in to let us know how you like the reviews. Because your support means everything!!
Last week, I put together some clothes and coats and shoes and other stuff, to donate to the flood victims in Pakistan. As I was going through some of the boys' outgrown jackets and shoes, Winkie noticed my efforts and asked me what I was upto. And I told him, explaining to him what a flood was, and what it could do. And asked him, if maybe he would like to do a little drawing to add some cheer and prayer to the bag we were filling with all the stuff. And he said yes.
He worked on it for some 10 odd minutes, the picture of rap attention, and once done, folded it down the middle and left it in front of the altar for a little while. Then he brought it to me. By that time, I was done gathering everything together and was sitting down for a breather. What I opened up to see, quite too my breath away too.
I have always loved Winkie's minimalist style of expression and this one was no different. Lots of clouds, lots of rain pouring down, lots of water forming underneath. It looked like a flood. And it could have also been the shower of blessings that would also rain down on those people, thanks to the efforts of some of these organisations to aid them. And more than anything else, I loved what he wrote....
"People of Pakistan, Do not worry. New life is coming back to you. Just wait and see."
It was a long due task. One that I had put off for many months, given how busy it has been in our lives. But today, when I got an open slot of time, with no claims on it, I got out the Bon Ami powder, which is supposed to be a wonder in the way it makes silver shine. I was eager to test it out and I got to work. I tried it out on a very lightly blackened diya first and wonder of wonders, it did the trick! The silver sparkled and gleamed with every turn of the light, while I rejoiced in how easy it was. Next came the incense holder and the process was repeated and the results were sparkling. Fully enthused, I got out the sandal paste holder. This was the blackest of them all, and I knew it would take some repeated scrubbing effort at most. And so I began.
The outsides were the first to respond. They succumbed to the pressure of the powder and allowed their true nature to be revealed. But not so much with the inside. I rubbed and I rubbed and I rubbed, and rinsed every once a while, to see if there was any change. If there was any, it was of a tiny increment, such as not to be very visible to the naked eye. But I labored over it, my hands rubbing hard, rubbing patiently, rubbing persistently, assured that in time, the silver would reveal itself.
The treatment at this point, was still gentle, and the effect of it...just a tiny improvement from its previous state. After a while, I realised that I would have to speed it along. The silver will have to show through at some point, isn't it? So why not try another method?
I put some water to boil in a pan, and once it started bubbling, I added a good 2 tbsp of the powder. It started frothing and foaming, and I dipped the holder into it. It sank right in, the water claiming it fully. But not quite. Some of it the outside of it was seen over the surface, and what had earlier been a bright silver, now became a radiant silver. Thinking this had done the trick, I pulled it out with a tong. The progress was evident. The black had lightened to a grey, the stubborn stain was finally lightening. But there was still some way to go. But at least I knew what was working. I put it back into the water and left it there to simmer in the heat. I went away for a bit, always knowing that I would be checking on it from time to time. A good 20 minutes like this and when I finally dipped it out, it was the lightest possible grey. Aha! Beautiful!
I rinsed it out in cool water, and took some powder in a paper towel and began the rubbing again. The last remnants of grey gave way to the original silver that was in the holder. After every few seconds of hard, persistent rubbing, I would rinse it off in the cool water, to wash away the traces of dirt. And finally, I stopped for what I felt was that perfect state of cleanliness. I admired my handiwork from every angle, took pictures of it and committed to writing about it here.
 For the undercurrents of what I had experienced, may perhaps be, already evident. Life had played itself out through this exercise. Like the silver holder, we too get blackened from all the exposure to the air and the elements. Like the silver holder, we too need to get cleaned from time to time, through the loving and gentle hands of God, who knows and believes in our true nature. Like the silver holder, we too, will undergo persistent rubbing and scrubbing through all the trials we face. And when that isn't enough, God will turn on the heat. It will scald and burn, and be an acutely painful experience, but it is necessary. But it isn't His fault, like we many times seem to think. Silver is a metal that reacts to chemicals, whether in the air or on contact. And it tarnishes as a result. We too get grimy and accumulate the dirt of the deeds of many past lives. Can we prevent the silver from tarnishing, in its use? No. But we can certainly play our part in restoring it to its natural beauty. Which is what God does. And tries to do everyday. And He gets there, eventually. Just as we get to Him. Eventually. In His inifinite kindness, He allows the cool waters of rinsing to pour over our lives every once a while, to give us a respite from the heat and the friction.
All that final rubbing and rinsing finally paid off for me. I now have a holder that looks beautiful and pristine. And I can use it in the worship of the very God that cares for me, in pretty much the same way!
A mantra is a powerful thing. Yes, I seem to be taken with a lot of mantra these days.:) But seriously, a mantra is a powerful thing. Especially, when it is a personal one. Its almost like you invest all your intent, and focus into a few chosen, deliberate words, and suddenly infuse them with a potency, which only grows with usage and time, and unleash that power as and when you call upon those very words. A mantra is a very powerful reminder that we are a product of thought, our thought, and that if thoughts can lead us astray, as they often do, they can also pull us back, to the most ideal place and moment.
" The mantra becomes one's staff of life and carries one through every ordeal. Each repetition has a new meaning, carrying you nearer and nearer to God.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi"
This year, for school and for everything else that would constitute his life, I thought it would be a great idea for Winkie to have his own mantra. Maybe one for every school year too. And nothing could have been better than I can. I will.
Without getting too much into labelling and typecasting, it seemed to me that this was one thing Winkie could afford to try and change about himself. His capacity for confidence. He always prefaced any new thing with self-doubt, and almost decidedly, self-defeat. His almost certain knowledge that he needed help before he could need himself, to do a job. And it always irked me to see this in him. We suffer through so much in our lives because of a lack of self confidence, and it was too painful to watch my son on the beginnings of that path. Self-confidence is a journey and an end in itself, and not one that can be made a part of you overnight, but it seemed like a mantra would be a good place to start. Especially on the eve of a new school year.
He took to it a lot faster than I expected. He was taken with the idea of having a mantra of his own, and he resonated with this simple one, which he practiced to say with emphasis to himself, with a clenched, powerful fist to boot. And that was how he began his school year and every other thing of change. And I am pleased to say that he has been making good use of it. Every time, before an Otter Creek math fact worksheet, he takes a quick pause to repeat this to himself, along with a prayer. I can. I will. And then goes on to beat his own goal. This is a simple instance of how he leans on its strength to forge ahead, but I can see the transformation it is making to his psyche and the way he thinks things through.
Anytime, we hit any sort of road block, I ask him.... what's your mantra?
An instant smile lights up his face, as he remembers that he has one and says...I can. I will.
The 'I can', is soft. Thoughtful. Tentative. A preparation. But the 'I will' is pronounced. Emphatic. Decided. Deliberate. Convincing. Winning.
And whether or not he achieves his goal...that becomes secondary. Because the attitude has already changed, his belief in himself has been reaffirmed, every else that follows, is on the winning curve. And everything else he does is with a smile and a laugh at himself, for having gotten down in the first place. Which is exactly how it works.
I too, have a mantra. And it is... 2010 is your year!
What's yours?
I have had the fortune of the indelible memory of two very powerful sound moments in my life, so far. And now, a third one has come into my life. A powerful, sweeping, tingling, spiritually charged, goose bumpy moment when music and voice came together once more, to still every thought in my mind, and make my heart scream with joy and undiluted bliss, and such a powerful yearning, as happens once in a rare blue moon.
It was at a spiritual retreat that we attended over the Labour Day weekend. It was Sunday evening, and time for bhajans. And I was deathly nervous, because I was singing one too. There I was sitting in the second row, along with the other singers, trying to keep my spine straight and my breathing even, and just relax into myself and let the music of my own soul, guide my voice to its natural place in the song, when the time came....when it began. That haunting, beautiful, eternal, sweetly mournful melody...wafting, note by stringful note to my ears. The oriental mood that it set, instantly calmed my nerves, and I began to float and lose myself to its intense beauty. And then they began to sing...
Om Mani Padme Hum..
Om Mani Padme Hum..
Om Mani Padme Hum..
Om Mani Padme Hum..
That beautiful Buddhist chant...which I learnt for the first time, how to properly pronounce in every word. And how to sing along with all those beautiful celestial voices, that were giving me so much of joy in tune. I was in bliss, pure and complete. Just as I am now, as I listen to it in the background and write, playing it over and over again, to keep the mood it invoked alive, to keep floating in that sea of sweetness, now and then finding a word out of a corner of the mind, to try and do at least an iota of justice to this emotion.
A serenity of space, a cool calm of the mind, yet so much of longing and desire woven into every note and nuance of music, a longing of union, of love, of a deep deep gratitude for so much of love.....h.o.w m.u.c.h a few words repeated in such a melodious loop can convey!
This is a moment, when I am convinced beyond any single thought, that life is beautiful, with a purpose even more so. And it has meaning. And simplicity. And so much to smile for. And so much to live for. And so much to yearn for. When all that is yearned for, can be had, just now...just as you are...just by closing your eyes, and opening up your heart petals, to soak up every breath of wind in that song.
That song is here, where you can listen to it. It may not impact you as powerfully as it did me. Or maybe it will. That is a matter of happenstance. Maybe it was because of the frame of mind I was in when I entered that hall. That slight tension, as I couldn't wait to get over my bit of song, so I could breathe easy once more. That sinking gut feeling as I worried about missing a line or singing something out of tune. Maybe that's why it acted as powerfully as it did. Or maybe it was the way the singers sang it. The deep male voices melding with the sweeter female tones, in the backdrop, connecting your heart to the divine current, quite effortlessly, through their effortless singing. Or maybe it goes beyond all this to a deeper reason. That maybe there is some kind of cosmic connection for me with anything Buddhist and any thing that rings event faintly of Tibet, this chant seemingly emanating from those distant, white mountain tops, and from some distant lifetime, that is now making its presence felt. Or may be it is a little bit of everything. Or nothing at all.
Whatever it is, I know now that I have something for life. Something that I can hug to myself, like a delicious secret..the force of which will miraculously drive away all my stress and leave me limp as a rag doll, and just so insanely calm and lucid, that nothing could be as important as being in that moment with that song. Each of us must have one such moment in our life, and one such thing to cling on to, and fall back on, when life throws up a tornado every once in a while. Something that transports us right to the heart and eye of it, where the calm instantly descends, and gives you a perspective of everything that is hurtling viciously around you.
Om Mani Padme Hum...is it for me. And as I keep hearing it over and over in my head, there is the sight of a little pink rose, on a bush outside the office window of my friend's home, where I was making her listen to it once, that keeps leaping to my eye. The way that rose danced to the wind, as if in tune to the music coming from inside...the two finding their own little symphony and symmetry of perfection, making that moment, so intensely sublime and quiet for me. Its like you instantly, in just this snap of a finger, are able to shed every single thing that acts as a burden of thought in your life, and tune into just this one all important thing, that it is the bottom line. That reminds you, that no matter what else is happening, life is as it should be. And you are where you are meant to be. And now is the best that it can be. Its a powerful, powerful thing...this ability to pierce through to the heart of life every once in a while, and discovering this little activating switch that you flick on, to get you there. To the song, and to the moment when time stood still, even as the song played in the background...I offer my eternal gratitude!
This is indeed a big milestone in our lives. The day we actually went ahead and bought ourselves a new dining table.
Let me set the record straight. There was nothing wrong with the old one. Nothing at all. Except for the fact that the screws were coming off the undersides of the chairs every once in a while, or that the cushions had gone completely flat from all those years of sitting (about 9 years), or the fact that I was so sick of wiping off yet another smudge of fingerprints off the glass table top, or just the plain and simple fact that it was time for a change. The out with the old, in with the new kind!
Still, for the longest time, we couldn't make up our minds to do it. Again, to set the record straight, I certainly could, but a certain *other* decision maker, couldn't find a justifiable enough reason to want to replace it. After all the table was in perfect working condition. And if we used table cloth, we needn't have to see or even get fingerprints on it. Point. And if we just replaced the chairs, we were good to go. Point again. And so we spent the next couple of years, looking for just that right kind of chair that would go with our very perfect, glass top - covered with a table cloth - no visible fingerprints - table. We found a couple in Ikea, only they were always out of stock. It happened with a few other places as well. Trust us to like the one thing that everybody else liked!
With all the delay that was taking place, I also switched gears on R, and began hankering for a wooden table. One that we wouldn't have to dress up with a table cloth if we didn't want to. One that we wouldn't have to worry about applying too much pressure on the glass top for fear it will crack. One that wouldn't get visible fingerprinting evidence on it. :D I just wanted a simple wood table, that Winkie could do his homework on. That the boys could spill their milk on and I wouldn't have to spray on a glass cleaner to make it finally look like there's no top on, in the first place. So you know how it is. When the lady of the house is unhappy, things have just got to change, your principles be - - - - - -!
And so, we started hunting again. This time for a proper dining set. A small enough table to fit into our breakfast nook, but large enough to seat 6 chairs. One that was in wood and not glass. A wood that was not too dark, and not too oak either. The chairs, not upholstered, but plain wooden, so we could add our own cushions to it. And all this at a price that made us happy. You can imagine how that went! The years dragged on, just as we dragged ourselves to a furniture store every once a few weeks to check out the latest stock, and the newest sale. And a good 5 years have passed in this manner. Until, the story of our table hunting became a local legend. Friends learned of it and even before they asked us how we were, on the phone, it was a ...How is the table hunting going?....or....Do you have a new one yet?
Okay. So I exaggerate, but just a teensy bit. For on that fated day, when the tide finally changed, and the Gods in heaven conspired to finally bring opportunity and action together in just the right alignment for us, I was chatting with my friend Altoid, who did, for the record, ask me if we had bought a new table yet. No, not yet...I told her sheepishly....but we are getting closer Minty. Words that I now recognize as being portentous, in a good way, of course. :)
It was a Tuesday, and the boys had swimming. R dropped us there and said he was heading to the furniture store in the same strip mall, and would see us back in an hour. Good luck with that!..I thought to myself and proceeded to enjoy the next 60 minutes watching the boys splash and drink the water, and float and sink and doggy paddle. And when he picked us up, he had that look on his face...like he could be on to something big. Yes! It was big alright. He had seen something that he liked, the price was great, only it was not in wood.
!!!!!!
But strange are the ways of the mind, and the erosive effect of time. For by this point, I was so saturated with all the back and forth action we had done, that I was willing to completely compromise on this one big desire, to go and check out his choice. I walked in to the store, completely prepared to shoot down yet another perfectly good table.....when I saw it! True, it was a glass top one. But this glass was so thick and so sturdy looking. Yes, the chairs were black (again!) and we couldn't use cushions on them, but that saddle stitching on the edges looked decidedly classy, and the firm ergonomic support felt great! What's more, there was this nice little platform that rested beneath the glass top, making it the ideal place to store coasters and placements and other knick knacks. The icing on the cake was the price of course. It was unbeatable! And in this split of a second, I did a complete 360 degree turn, and walked out with a big smile on my face.
I think that shocked him more than anything else. He hadn't really expected me to like it, and he certainly hadn't expected to walk back into that store to sign on the order form for a new table. But that is what we did. And in another week, became the proud new owners of yet another glass top, 6 seater, dining table. Oh btw, when I called up a neighbour friend to ask for her help to haul it back, she squealed out in delight, congratulating us heartily on our new member. I don't think she even sounded this excited when I had told her about my pregnancies! I rest my case.
 R worked hard to assemble it. It was back breaking work, because that thick glass top really was thick. And heavy! And something to fear, very much, for our backs, and I hope we never have to dismantle it! The day we retired our old table to the basement (for its temporary home), was a slightly sad one. It had begun its life of usefulness with us, in our first year of marriage, gifted by R's friends as his wedding gift. It had seen the kids as babies and borne many a spit-up, cereal spill and spoon banging on its tender see-through surface. And outlived all the chairs that it came up, bravely asserting its usefulness and lasting. And so, I made a ceremony of it. I walked around the table a few times, caressing the glass, thanking it for everything it had withstood with us. And said goodbye.
And there was a welcoming ceremony too. Decorated with fresh yellow roses, right on the heels of Ganesha Chathurthi, the glass top sparkling brightly after a thorough wipe down, and the ceremonial milk boiled and kept on top of it, it has begun its life with us here, in the fall of 2010. Life is not perfect. No, far from it. I still cannot stand the fingerprints, or the hand smudges when we rest on it, or the cloudy, foggy look when the cloth doesn't wipe it down neatly. Nor do I like the fact that I cannot sit cross legged easily on the chairs, without some manipulation, because that very useful platform under the glass, restricts that leg space so. In fact, this is a bigger peeve for me, than even the fingerprints now. But we will have to find our way around it. No one is perfect. Not me, and definitely not this table. But we will learn to deal with each other's limitations and learn to get along, while I completely sit back and enjoy the ergonomic ecstasies of my saddle stitch chair!
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